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Chapala put on an astounding folk dance festival last Sunday that brought together hundreds of performers and a huge crowd of spectators. I can almost guarantee that every one of the 2,000 participating dancers first learned the steps of the Jarabe Tapatio and other classic Mexican dances while rehearsing for Mother’s Day festivals taking place at their kindergartens or elementary schools. 

Chapala put on an astounding folk dance festival last Sunday that brought together hundreds of performers and a huge crowd of spectators. I can almost guarantee that every one of the 2,000 participating dancers first learned the steps of the Jarabe Tapatio and other classic Mexican dances while rehearsing for Mother’s Day festivals taking place at their kindergartens or elementary schools. 

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by how challenging it can be for newbie expats to catch on to the realities of adjusting to life in Mexico and our lakeside community in particular. Sometimes the questions I run across on social networks cause some head shaking or slaps on the forehead with the palm of my hand.

This week, people around the world celebrated Saint Patrick’s Day on March 17. In the USA, folks enjoy an occasion to feast on corned beef and cabbage, swill down green beer and dress in green clothing to avoid getting pinched. 

The Lake Chapala Society is in a pickle.

I have been a member of LCS for more than half a century, seeing it go through ups and downs over those five decades. It has survived internal conflicts, public controversies, good and bad economic times, and deep troubles during the Covid pandemic. What is happening right now suggests LCS is facing its first potential existential crisis.

I’m in the shower on Tuesday afternoon on my third shampoo to wash gobs of flour out of my scalp and prevent my hair from drying out with a coat of engrudo, that homemade paste used to make anything out of papier-mâché.